Chapter Text
Ghost had seen and been through a lot in his life. More than any person should have to endure, really. An abusive father, his entire family being slaughtered, and Roba and his “methods,” so to speak, all lead him to a life of violence in British Special Forces.
Ghost didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone or anything. I mean, Ghost was legally dead, he couldn’t get married even if he somehow did find someone. Which—of course—he thought was impossible anyway.
Ghost eventually joined General Shepard’s Task Force 141, with the end goal of capturing and killing Makarov. This is where he ended up working alongside Captain Price, Captain MacTavish, and Sargeant Sanderson—who went by the name of Roach.
All his team members were unique in their own ways. Price and his love for cigars, MacTavish and his signature mohawk and accent. But Roach was just…Roach.
Roach never spoke. He could make sound, sure. (Ghost had learned that from hearing him yell in the field.) In Ghost’s opinion, Roach was intriguing in his own way.
Roach covered his face most of the time, similarly to Ghost himself. That just made him all the more interesting to Ghost.
Eventually, Ghost had made it his personal mission to learn more about him. What he liked, what he disliked, why he never spoke. Ghost wanted to learn it all—good or bad.
After a total shit show of a mission, while waiting for exfil, Ghost decided this was his chance.
“Roach.” Ghost blurted out before he could second guess himself, knowing he would have chickened out if he did.
In classic Roach fashion, Roach simply turned his hand and gave Ghost a small questioning hum. His head was even tilted to the side slightly, which Ghost found it almost cute (but he wouldn’t admit that over his dead body.)
“Why do ya’ never talk mate? I mean, it’s like you’re mute or something,” Ghost inquired, shooting Roach a curious look through his blue eyes.
But of course, all Ghost got in return was a small shrug from the other. It kind of irked Ghost in a way. He was going out of his way to learn about someone out of actual interest—which he never did.
However, if there was one thing Ghost was, it was persistent. Of course, after going through what Ghost had been through, persistence had been engraved into him.
Back to the present, their exfil finally arrived, quickly touching down before the task force boarded.
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After a grueling 6 hours in the chopper, the team had finally made it back to base safely—minus small injuries, of course.
Ghost was the last to get off the heli, although he didn’t mind much.
The debrief after was almost more exhausting than the mission itself. Roach looked like he was falling asleep as Shepard droned on and on—not that Ghost was looking at Roach or anything. He was just observing.
At last, the debrief was finally over and everyone was dismissed.
Ghost quickly caught up to Roach in the hallway, just to make sure he wasn’t hurt or anything—at least—that’s what he told himself.
Roach, once again, gave him a nod and small smile. Ghost looked over him for a moment, making sure he wasn’t lying. Once Ghost had decided Roach was telling the truth, he nodded before finally entering his room.
He silently shut the door behind him before letting out a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Ghost was quick to peel his mask off, wincing at the way his sweat made the mask stick to his face. It desperately needed a wash, Ghost decided.
He hastily took off all his gear and put in a pile in the corner of his room. It could be cleaned later, Ghost thought to himself.
Ghost had changed into pajamas and made sure his door was locked (it always was, he was just paranoid.) Before laying down and practically falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
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Ghost’s sleep was restless as always, his past was constantly coming back to haunt him—awake or not.
Once Ghost finally gave up on sleeping for the night, he got up to got take a shower.
The showers were always empty when Ghost was there. He had always purposely gone at times when he knew the showers would be empty. Ghost hated people seeing his face, and his body wasn’t an exception to that rule.
He quickly showered and dressed, before walking back to his room. Ghost sat at his desk as he tried to work, staring at the mission reports on his computer screen.
For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about Roach.
It’s not like Ghost had a crush on him or anything. He just wanted to know more about him. Hell, he’d be content with just hearing his voice for once.
What the hell?
Where did that thought come from?
Ghost shook his head and looked back at the computer screen, trying to focus on his work.
But he couldn’t focus.
He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was yesterday’s mission. Maybe it was the fact he was sleep deprived.
Ghost couldn’t name this feeling.
“I need a smoke,” Ghost muttered to himself as he stood from his desk, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and his lighter before walking outside.
Price and MacTavish were training recruits as he got outside, lighting up a cigarette as he watched.
His gaze lingered on the newbies as he smoked, still trying to think yet clear his head.
Ghost’s thoughts were interrupted up the sound of footsteps behind him. He tensed up slightly before relaxing when he realized it was just Roach. Ghost nodded softly in greeting before offering Roach a cigarette.
Roach looked at him in confusion. Ghost never offered cigarettes—like never. Nonetheless, Roach wasn’t the type to turn down an offered cigarette.
The two sat in silence as they smoked, Ghost occasionally sparing a glance in Roach’s direction.
The thoughts still ran rampant in his head, no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind.
What the hell is his problem?